


The Hero of Ferelden

by ThatWasntSoBad



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2020-01-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:34:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22051144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatWasntSoBad/pseuds/ThatWasntSoBad
Summary: *Rated Mature for Violence. Any additional reasons will be added as I go*Adelaide Cousland, the youngest child of Teryn Bryce Cousland of Highever, finds herself stripped of her title when her family are murdered in a suspicious act of treason, and the only thing keeping her alive is to join the Grey Wardens - an order formed to end Blights and defeat the Darkspawn. The situation at hand, the possible start of another Blight after four hundred years, is much worse than previously thought. Adelaide and another Warden, Alistair Theririn, find themselves having to build an army to defeat the Darkspawn and stop a Civil War following the death of the King.
Relationships: Alistair/Female Cousland (Dragon Age)
Kudos: 4





	1. Prologue

_In dread I looked up once more  
And saw the darkness warp and crumble,  
For it was thin as samite,  
A fragile shroud over the Light  
Which turned it to ash.  
\- Exaltations, 1:11_

* * *

“Adelaide, _run_!”  
  
Her eyes burned, tears building within them like a well filled with water, like a river swelled during heavy downpours. It was far too rapid, any blinking that she did simply did nothing. It was hard to say whether it was the smoke clawing at her eyes or the heft of remorse that made it painful. It was a sting that would never go away no matter how much water escaped her eyes. Perhaps it was both. Perhaps it was one or the other. It was… difficult, to say the least. Her instincts were telling her to continue following the Warden-Commander, but her emotions were telling her to turn on her heel and run back to the pantry, drag her mother and father to safety, kill any of Howe’s men that stood in her way.

But that wasn’t what her parents wanted. Her father may not have wanted her to be a Grey Warden, stubborn as he was, but there weren’t any other options. She _wanted_ to do it, no matter the cost. Ser Gilmore - the original candidate - was likely dead at the gates, leaving only one person left - her. There may not have been a true Blight, but she wasn’t going to sit and watch. _Someone needs to tell the King,_ her father had said whilst his palm cupped her cheek, leaving a bloodied palm print in its place.  
  
She could see the pain in his eyes, be it of the injury or the knowledge that this was the last time he would see her. Her father’s eyes were usually full of warmth, a blanket on her down days, a spell of healing on her sick days. He was always so… steady, strong, telling her stories of victory but also of rationality, logic and understanding. Most who pushed the Orlesians back from Ferelden disliked them greatly, but her father saw no point in disliking someone who was after peace. Empress Celene had never wanted the war, so she was led to believe. She didn’t hate Orlesians, only those who wanted war - both from Orlais and Ferelden alike. Especially with the bigger threat at hand. It would be best to join forces, but many had disagreed.

Including Howe, the traitor to not only Highever but also the _King._ She was certain that telling the King what had happened, being a witness and a survivor, would lead to an investigation and Howe being thrown into the dungeon to _rot in hell_ for what he’d done.

Although he deserved much, _much,_ worse.  
  
Adelaide was pulled out from her thoughts and dragged into a back alley, her pet Mabari following her heel loyally. The clanging of armour sounded, echoing off the stone walls of the castle. At first, it was difficult to tell exactly where they were coming from amidst the sound of fires and shouts, the pounding of her heart, the labour of her breaths. Yet, somehow, she identified that they were coming from the same direction as they had been: the pantry. She managed to hold her breath as the soldiers passed, her form shaking from either anxiety, a lack of oxygen to her already smoke-filled lungs or both.  
  
When they had passed, she released her breath - arguably a little quickly - and slowly inhaled. It was shaky, trying to be quiet whilst getting enough air, and she would have coughed had she not been so alert to the soldiers nearby.  
She thought it stupid - her entire life she had wanted to do something _more_ than sitting by idly whilst her father went into any battles he was called to, her brother at his side. It was a struggle to let Ferghus, her older brother, go to Ostagar. When she’d tip-toed the idea, her father wanted to hear none of it. He worried enough with one child going into battle, but both of them? That would have killed him. She knew that.

So she didn’t argue.

She could only imagine how it would feel, losing two people that you’d sired or birthed. The closest she could think of it being like was losing people she cared about. As soon as word got out about the possible Blight, she knew her father would be leading the Highever army to Ostagar and fight the Darkspawn. Sometimes the blighted creatures would stalk the old ruins along the Storm Coast, small bands no worse than a group of bandits. It wouldn’t be the first time she had come across them, skin grey and eyes lifeless. Most that died fighting the small bands had been tainted, too. They either died on-site, or they died returning. It was hard to tell if someone had it until their veins were turning black and eyes grey. It… was considered merciful to put the tainted out of their misery. If there were any wardens nearby, perhaps becoming a Grey Warden could save them.  
  
She… rarely found out what happened. Just those who had the taint often died, one way or another.  
  
“They have passed. We can continue our escape.”  
  
Adelaide nodded solemnly, voice quiet, just above a whisper. “The secret passage is in the room three doors down. ”  
  
“And would I be right to assume you know the way?” Duncan’s eyes bore into her, voice quiet but stare sharp and calculating. There was a hint of… something in his words. She couldn’t quite identify if it was hidden annoyance or a sense of urgency. She suspected both.  
  
“Of course. ” She would have been utterly offended at the idea that she didn’t know of its whereabouts or where it led - she was always quite curious as a child and often went through the tunnel, simply to see if it actually was the escape route her older brother (who was a teen at the time) had claimed it was. They went through it together multiple times.

  
Now wasn’t the time for emotions to get the best of her - such an offence was a trivial matter and would do nothing more than remind her of her losses.  
  
Something she wouldn’t dare to do until they were at Ostagar. Perhaps then she’d have enough time alone, seek out Ferghus and tell him what happened, contemplate her move on the chessboard so _justice_ could be served.  
  
It was as she thought that she approached the door - simple and as ornate as the doors servants used. Simply, undecorated and as bland as every other door in the castle. It was easy to think that nothing laid beyond this door - and upon entering nothing could be seen except for sacks of flour and crates of fresh produce. But Adelaide knew of a secret and she’d be surprised if having one in a Ferelden castle was few and far between - afterall, a great many were great fortresses that have held back attack after attack throughout the centuries. None were as famous for it as Redcliffe, however, situated at Lake Calanhad whilst bordering both The Hinterlands and The Bannorn.  
  
With ease, Adelaide leaned over a pile of sack (most filled with flour, but others had Mabari food - which her canine sniffed and attempted to get into, his tail wagging excitedly. “Not now, young man.” She patted his head, not too dissimilar to how she would ruffle her nephew’s hair, and frowned when she couldn’t quite reach what she was after. Without a word and a finger held up to silence her Mabari Hound, she practically laid on the sacks and finally, much easier this time, found the object. It was a small statue - easily held in one hand - that was a depiction of the first Cousland to lead Highever once t had gained independence from Amaranthine (according to the maids), but it was often thought to being of King Calanhad. It was difficult to tell as centuries had whittled away any predominant features from the man.  
It was the key to their escape, one designed both in size and structure to remain in a knapsack - afterall, keys to secret passageways must always be kept a secret.  
  
“Aelfric, keep guard of the door.” She looked at the hound dead in the eyes, holding a mabari crunch out of him. He went to eat it and she pulled it away, “and stay quiet.” She let him eat the treat after that and, loyally, he sat in front of the door, staring at it with his ears perked up.  
  
A mabari, as she knew all too well, was a fearsome creature, and one no one wanted at their heels. Certainly not an army of them.

It was in the tall, stone pillar (often used as a brazier) that the keys pedal stool lay in wait to be used once more. She moved the replica statue (made deliberately too light to activate anything) and replaced it with the real one. Quietly (or as quietly as magic enchantments and dwarven crafting could make it), the wall behind the large fireplace shifted and cogs whirred into action, no creek or screech to be heard.  
  
At the sound, Aelfric rushed back to her side and was the first to proceed down the stairs that had been revealed, worn down yet still as sturdy as the day they were carved. Duncan followed after the dog, and Adelaide replaced the statue with the replica once again. As the entrance began to close, she walked in effortlessly (although the thought that it may close faster than she remembered was always in the back of her mind) and descended the steps as the door closed just as quietly as it opened. Enchantments had meant the tunnel in front of them remained lit, braziers burning for eternity.  
  
There were no questions asked about it - not that she would have been able to answer them regardless, far too focused on the way out - and there was simply silence. Aelfric kept his nose to the ground, focusing only on a pile of loose dirt. His paws dug away at it, quickly digging a hole, and he shoved his face into the dirt. He pulled out a lockbox, made of steel and Iron. Adelaide opened it and pulled out a piece of paper confidentially, putting the box back and reburying it.  
  
It was a map that she and her brother and made together: the old one was near impossible to read, tattered and so old it might as well turn to dust as she touched it: the only thing stopping it from doing so was the darkness in which it resided. It was important to replicate the map, which had dated back to the Tower Age, when Highever gained independence from the Howes of Amaranthine. For centuries the neighbours had been friends, but now… they shall forever be enemies. There was no way she would _ever_ forgive them for what they had down.  
  
The gentle nuzzle on her leg as she examined her map reminded her of her anger. She stomped on it and continued, eyeing the countless turnoffs that led to dead ends and traps should the enemy attempt to follow. It was with an experts eye that she followed the map - it wasn’t that that she necessarily knew how to _read_ a map - she always found them so confusing with their layout - it was that it was easy to understand and she’d walked down the tunnel enough times as a shortcut to go into town for multiple duties, including public appearances.  
  
Theoretically, the tunnel was long but the correct path took very little time to walk through. It saved on time, especially during the common storms that arrived from the Waking Sea. In less than an hour, they were out of the tunnel, coming out of a cave that thugs, bandits, apostates and travellers looking for shelter to camp would use. There were crates, barrels and broken chests scattered about along with fresh cart and horse tracks. They’d already filled with water, rain falling heavily. Whoever they were, they were long gone.

It was with a heavy sigh that she ventured out into the rain, map now safe in her knapsack, and trudged through the mud. “This cave may be secluded, but Howe’s men would be scouring the area for us. If we stop now to light a fire,” she bit back a shallow laugh, “we’ll be discovered as easily as we escaped. We continue south - cross country. There’s a village not too far away. They’re more loyal to the Cousalnds than the King - we’ll be safe enough to sleep there overnight. If I remember rightly, there’s a cave not too far away.”  
  
“I shall assume it is yet another secret entrance?”  
  
“You assume correctly, Duncan. It leads to the village. Another hour through the cave, cutting down a feasible half a day should we walk and… go the wrong way in this dark weather.”  
  
“Should we make it to the village, it is unlikely the Arl’s men will give chase.”  
  
Adelaide nodded solemnly, hand on the pommel of the long sword at her hip. “They have a higher chance of death by wolves than finding us.”  
  
The smell of acrid smoke lingered in the air, the wind having brought it south. She knew that the fires would be out by morning, replaced by carrion and the start of decomposing flesh. It was with a single glance in the direction of Higherever that she allowed tears to begin anew. At her side, Aelfric whined as if verbalising her grief. His head rubbed against her leg, soaked and cold, and soon nuzzled the palm of her hand.  
  
“I don’t want to leave either. But,” she looked at him, smile pained, and softly scratched his head, “we must tell my brother and the King of this event. We’re all that’s left, now. Let’s not waste this opportunity.”  
  
_______  
  
It was with a heavy heart that she had finally walked into Ostagar. The King was already waiting for them, so it seemed, and the frown he wore only deepened. It was clear to her that Teryn Loghain had annoyed him with strategies he seemingly disagreed with, but there was something else behind those eyes.  
  
“Welcome back, Duncan. I was hoping to give you a warm welcome!” King Cailan approached them, standing tall as a King should (albeit his exasperation with the Hero of River Dane was clear as day), with a sigh leaving his lips through his words. “I see you have brought your new recruit.”

Duncan stepped to one side. “I have indeed, Your Majesty.”  
  
“Welcome to Ostagar, Adelaide. I received the message early this morning about Highever. I am… truly sorry for your loss.”  
  
It was a simple handshake that they shared and she bowed briefly in respect. He was a good man regardless of what others might think - although sometimes he sought out glory from the tales so much it was almost naive. That alone didn’t make him a bad person, simply lost in the tales of his father, Maric.  
“Is there any way I can tell my brother of the situation, Your Majesty?”  
  
He sighed deeply. “I am afraid not. I would have let him know as soon as I received word, but he and his men had already ventured into the Wilds.” When he looked at her, it was direct - not a single sign of it merely being out of good manners. King Cailan was looking _at_ her, not through her, and it was ever more apparent to her now that it meant business.  
  
After all, The Couslands were second in rank only to the King. It must have been akin to losing a right-hand. Out of the nobility of Ferelden, it must have felt like her family were one of the few who agreed with his idea of making Orlais and ally.  
  
“Once this battle is over, I shall see that there is an investigation on the event at once and justice will be served, I promise you that, Adelaide Cousland. Bryce was a good man and Eleanor a good woman - what happened was unacceptable and I wish I could do something more.” It was a moment of pure emotion that was swiftly replaced by business as he once again looked to Duncan. “Have you had any sighting of an Archdemon?”  
  
“No, Sire.”  
  
“Then are we sure this is even a true blight? Without the sighting of an Archdemon, it is no more than an abnormally large group of Darkspawn. We’ve already fended off three raids.”  
  
“Your Majesty, Archdemon or no, this is more than an abnormally large raid. There is an army twice the size of Orlais’. We cannot take this lightly.”  
  
“I know.” There was another sigh. “I just supposed it would be like in the tales: riding next to Grey Wardens and their Griffons, tackling the Darkspawn and stopping the Blight once more. But, alas, there has been no sign of an Archdemon.”  
  
If Cailan wasn’t King, she would have crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. It was somewhat endearing, not too different from her own joy of tales and stories. But a story wasn’t the real thing, simply based off it.  
  
“But I suppose this will have to do. Duncan, show our new recruit around the ruins. I should return to Loghain and listen to more of his boorish strategies. I hope to see you on the battlefield, Adelaide. Until we meet again.  
  
It was with a mutual bow that he left. It seemed that the Darkspawn hadn’t shattered his childlike innocence. Griffons may have gone extinct many centuries ago, but it seemed to phase the King very little.  
  
"So, Duncan,” it was only when Cailan was out of sight that she spoke once more, “there hasn’t been a sighting of an Archdemon?”  
  
“What the King says is true.” It was with defeat that he spoke.  
  
“But, could it still be underground? If they’re meant to lead the army of Darkspawn, perhaps the bulk of the Horde is still there.”  
  
“It is possible. Regardless, the threat is far bigger than most are taking it.” He gestured her to walk beside him. “I have a few things to attend to. Search out Alistair, our junior warden, and the other new recruits. The sister from the Chantry may have given Alistair an errand. She will point you in the right direction. Your Mabari shall stay with me for the time being. The guards shall show you around should you get lost. Once you have sought out Alistair, return to me and the preparations for the Joining will begin.”  
  
It was with those words that he began to cross the bridge. She took a deep breath and swallowed thickly.  
  
 _No turning back now._


	2. 1 - Ostagar

_Then in the centre of heaven  
He called forth  
A city with towers of gold,  
streets with music for cobblestones,  
And banners which flew without wind.  
There, He dwelled, waiting  
To see the wonders  
His children would create.  
\- Thereonodies, 5:2_

* * *

The task to find Alistair was much easier than she had thought. She spoke to a few people, got to know the area, found the other two recruits (Ser Jory of Redcliffe and Daveth from a nearby village, he had wit whilst Jory had the serious nature of a knight whilst being fearful of overstepping anything), and simply… lurked. She’d been pointed into the rough direction of the Junior Warden by the Sister, but all that awaited her was an argument.

She was well intending to stay unseen, or, at least, look busy whilst she waited for it to finish. It was considered bad-mannered to interrupt, but also bad mannered to linger. Had it not been so urgent, she would have come back later in the day. But that simply was not the case. It couldn’t wait, so she chose to hang around, adore the sunshine and… try to smell the flowers of the wilds above the scent of an army camp.

Of course, she hadn’t quite succeeded in remaining undisturbed as she waited. The angered mage Alistair had been talking (she assumed, for he was delivering a message) sauntered off in a huff and almost barged into her with an ’ _out of my way, fool’_ spoken in a… less than welcoming tone. She would have fired back had she been confident enough to do so, but she favoured glaring daggers into the back of his head for a moment before approaching the other.

“You know, one good thing about the blight it how it keeps people together.”

The warrior’s quip made her smile slightly - more than she had been able to do on the way down to the old Tevinter Ruins - and she nodded. “I agree.”

“It’s like a party, we all stand in a circle and hold hands. That would give the Darkspawn something to think about.” A beat of silence passed before his gaze at her turned more curious, almost sceptical for a brief moment. “Wait… we haven’t met before, have we? I don’t suppose you’d be another mage.”

It was quite amusing to her that he would think so, considering she was wedding armour, shield on her back and sword at her hip. It also didn’t surprise her - he seemed quite distressed by the mage: not afraid, but like he had been sent on an errand he didn’t want to do. Perhaps it wad the chantry sun on his shield (she noticed) that caused such an attitude.

Regardless, it wasn’t any of her business and she smiled politely at him. “You’re in luck today. I am no mage.”

It was as if the cogs turned I’m his brain with the brief widening of his eyes, then the narrowing of remembrance. “Ah, Duncan’s newest recruit. I apologise.”

“No need.” She held out her hand. “Adelaide Cousland.”

The man’s grasp was on her hand was firm, as was the handshake. “I’m Alistair, the junior Grey Warden. I’ll be accompanying you for your joining.”

The flood of relief she felt at his words alone made her smile far more genuine. She doubted he wouldn’t have noticed the slight lowering her shoulders, posture relaxing rather than remaining straight and tense.

She feared that he would be less than nice - selfish and more like a slave owner cane to mind. A month ago, Adelaide would have claimed it irrational for it to be a possible fear - but with the family friend butchering her family and the people of Highever, she didn’t really know whether it was rational, heightened awareness, or simply paranoia anymore.

“I am honoured to fight beside you.” It was the least ominous compliment she could think of without giving anything away. She’d heard the rumours that they’d be heading into the Wilds, but that was all they were - mere speculation. If that was untrue, then they’d surely fight together in the main battle.

“I,” Alistair cleared his throat. “Thank you.”

It seemed clear to her that he wasn’t used to compliments. An unsupportive family, perhaps? Or was he always deemed to be the underdog that people forgot existed? Adelaide deemed it the end of one conversation and began another, brows furrowed in curiosity. “So,” she stood to one side, gesturing Alistair to lead the way, and walked beside him, “what does the joining entail? The books about the Wardens didn’t really say anything about the joining, only that they’re the only ones who can defeat the Archdemon.”

Alistair frowned then, although he sounded regretful about it. “I’m… afraid I can’t really say anything about it.”

“Sworn to secrecy? Sounds pretty dangerous.” She merely shrugged it off. At this rate, anything sounded better than being left to die at Highever. “If it means being able to end this ‘blight’ before it gets bigger - nip it in the bud, so to speak - I’ll do whatever I can. It’s the least I can do to help, regardless of the dangers.”

She felt surprised eyes lad on her, the junior warden staring at her as if he was shocked someone would willingly risk their lives to join the order. “I would say I’m not surprised, but you’re pretty enthusiastic about this. That is the surprising part.”

“I don’t really have much left to lose - only my pride at this point. What little I have left after…” She shook her head, stopping herself fro continuing the sentence. “It… doesn’t matter. Point is, if I’m going to be a Grey Warden, I’m not going to turn on my heel and run in the other direction. That’s cowardice, right? I mean, we may have no _physical_ sign of an Archdemon, but that doesn’t mean one _doesn’t_ exist. And since Grey Wardens are vital to killing Darkspawn and Archdemons, it’s doesn’t mean this hoard is _less_ dangerous, nor less of a threat. They could still wipe Ferelden out in a matter of months - they nearly wiped Thedas out once, what’s to say complacency doesn’t ake that a threat for a second time running? It’s hardly a time for running away from saving Ferelden - or the world.”

“Points taken.” It was with faint amusement that Alistair addressed her. “So, you’re a Cousland, right? Has anyone in your family been a Grey Warden?”

“If they were it must have been before the Wardens were exiled by King… Tyrant… whatever his name was. There’s no record I can think of from the top of my head. It wouldn’t surprise me if that _was_ the case. But it also wouldn’t. My father was _strongly_ against me joining the Wardens - said he couldn’t have both his children die at Ostagar.”

“So why the change of heart?”

“That…” Adelaide cast her eyes down at her feet for a moment before looking ahead once more. The atmosphere around her was suddenly thick, almost suffocating. Like it still hadn’t fully sunken into her - she hadn’t yet really… acknowledged - that her father, her _parents_ , were dead. She’d been denying it for a while, thinking it was all just a nightmare but… it wasn’t anymore. Not now that she was at Ostagar, talking to a Grey Warden like he was a friend. “I cannot say. I didn’t get a chance to ask.”

Alistair must have observed it was a delicate topic, moving on as swiftly as she had changed it mere minutes ago. “Have you met the new recruits? Daveth and Ser Jory.”

“Yes. I spoke to them when I was searching for you and getting my bearings. They seem alright.”

“Then that makes things a little easier. We’ll return to Duncan and get underway.”

The walk was quiet yet Alistair’s company wasn’t unwanted. He didn’t pry any further into her story than she was willing to give and be didn’t force her into conversations, or force them to continue. He could read a mood easily, so it appeared, but he wasn’t afraid to throw wit when the situation was right.  
It was too early to tell for certain, but Adelaide felt like Alistair’s company was a welcome one, far more homely than that of business. It was a vast difference to Duncan’s seriousness and the trodden moods of the soldiers in Ostagar. One that she welcomed gratefully in this unknown place to her. For a few days, she felt as numb as cold rain landing on bare skin, like chilling winds against her face in winter. She didn’t speak much, finding more company in staring at the fire blankly and embracing the comfort her Mabari than talking to anyone. Even the countryside - which was often considered her escape - did nothing to soothe the quiet anguish. She barely realised these emotions were growing until she felt herself smile at one of Alistair’s _awful_ jokes.

It was a welcome distraction from the turmoil she’d just escaped from.  
  


“I see you have found Alistair.” Duncan’s greeting upon their returning was nothing short of exasperated. “That is, unless, you’ve finished riling up mages.”

 _Ah. Of course._ One of the Sisters posted in the Dwarven ruin for the army’s religious purposes ad sent Alistair to deliver a message to the age she saw him arguing with.

“She ambushed me. The way she wields guilt they should stick her in the army.” Alistair folded his arms in his own defence, but he swiftly sighed at the narrowed eyes Duncan threw at him, stern and unrelenting.

“You shouldn’t do that. We are too few and we don’t need to give anyone a reason to add more ammunition against us.”

“I… apologise.”  
  
The silence that fell, albeit for a brief moment, was thick. Adelaide squirmed beneath the Warden-Commander’s scrutiny, despite it being aimed at the man stood beside her. It reminded her of the Nanny - a battleaxe of a woman, still able to cause serious damage despite dull edges and rusted metal. It didn’t matter how old she was, in her fifties or her sixties, her temper still had bite. Words could cut through metaphorical defences like sharpened blades could cut through flesh.   
  
It was yet another moment that reminded her of times gone by - the lectures should she and Fergus be caught sneaking around at night, the threats of a spoon upon their rumps, the comforting words of parents being far more tactful with their upset children than angered by a mistake anyone could have made.  
  
It was all gone now.  
  
She vaguely heard the conversation, arms crossed sub-consciously. She should have been paying attention to the instructions given. What use would she be if she had not listened? Under different circumstances the _I have a lot of things cluttering up my mind_ excuse would work. Right now, however… she highly doubted _any_ excuse would pass. This was a matter of life and death, not lecture and no lecture.  
  
“Along with Darkspawn blood, I will need you four to retrieve old Gre Warden treaties from within the Wilds. Alistair will show you the way.”  
  
“Grey Warden Treaties?” Ser Jory, the knight from Redcliffe, had posed quite the question. But it would have been more befitting to ask about the blood.  
  
“Grey Wardens can receive help from humans, elves, dwarves, commoners, nobles, non-magic folk and mages.” Adelaide listed possible recruits as if she had only recently read a book on them when, in fact, it had been years. It was with a faint sigh that she spoke, expecting it to be somewhat common knowledge should the legends be as well-known as they were made out to be. “Ostagar may have held back many defences in the past, but it doesn’t change that it is currently a ruin. And it’s best not to forget that this is believed to be a Blight. The Archdemon could appear tonight, maybe at any point right now. If it is _true_ , the handful of Wardens in Ferelden _alone_ won’t be much help. We’d need an army from across the country, preferably the whole of Thedas.”  
  
“Nice of you to rejoin us, Milady.” It was Daveth the rogue that spoke in amusement. “You see, Sir Knight, treaties are very important to defeating Darkspawn.”  
  
“Yes, well, one can never be too sure.”  
  
“I don’t know. I’d take any chance we have to defeat the Darkspawn at this moment in time. Including age-old treaties that may or not be in the wilds now. That’s if the enchantments are still in place.”  
  
“Enchantments?”  
  
“Yes, Ser Jory. That’s what the legends say.”  
  
“It seems that someone paid attention to their history classes.” It was Duncan that interrupted the conversation, both seemingly impressed and _un_ impressed at the same time. It was difficult to tell from his expression alone how he felt, let alone his tone. It seemed no different from how he spoke before. This was a man of business and there was no messing around.  
  
Adelaide’s expression swiftly changed, still too exhausted from restless nights and hidden grief to want to dilly-dally. “We’ll get the blood and the treaties.” She stood to attention, determined, with no questions asked. If she were to ask about the reasoning behind the blood, she would either get no answer or one she wouldn’t like. Grey Warden business wasn’t her business until she was part of the order. Even then, any business that was only for the senior Wardens to know wasn’t her business. That was made reasonably clear to her - no matter the organisation, there were _always_ secrets kept from the lower ranks by the higher ranks. It was no different from a family gathering.  
  
She was alright with that. _If_ it was for the best. Corruption, however, was a very different story.

She took the vials Duncan had passed her, slipping them into the pack at her hip.  
“Have you three fought Darkspawn before?”  
  
Daveth and Jory looked at each other, then at Alistair and Duncan, then at her. Adelaide figured she was the only one, except for Alistair, that had. “A few times. There are a few abandoned thaigs along the Storm Coast. A few darkspawn have come out over the past year, more so in the past month - more common and more of them. As long as you keep your mouth shut, you’re all good. If you do… well, do try not to swallow. Acts like poison. You may die instantly, you may be lucky and be perfectly alright, or you die a very horrid death and we’d need to kill you mercifully if you wanted it.”  
  
“And you’ve seen this with your own eyes?” Daveth looked at her in fascination, but Jory merely swallowed thickly.  
  
“I don’t think that’s a good thing.”  
  
Adelaide shrugged. “Knowing what you’re up against makes preparing for it much easier. They’re gruesome and dangerous but they’re still mortal - just like anyone in this camp. Possibly easier to handle than a demon. That’s if you don’t think of them as darkspawn and only things to kill.”

“You… take joy in killing those… _things?_ ”  
  
“Ser Jory, they’ve killed more people under my command you’ve had to kill in a lifetime. I take great satisfaction in taking their lives to save the people of Highever. And I shall take the same satisfaction to do it again for _Ferelden._ For _Thedas._ They may strike fear into me that they will never feel, but I’ll use it to my advantage.”  
  
Jory seemed to retreat into his armour. For a knight, he didn’t seem to be all that brave. It was hard believed that mere hours before he was enthusiastic about this whole ordeal. Maybe if he were to become a Warden, he wouldn’t suit the role. But that wasn’t her decision to make and she surmised that anyone who hadn’t fought darkspawn would react in a similar way.  
  
But Daveth grinned. “Think of it this way Ser Knight: we have two people with us who can fight Darkspawn.”  
  
Jory looked at her again, the fear clear in the way he swallowed. “Remind me not to get on your bad side.”  
  
“Jory, before I forget: don’t get on my bad side.”


	3. The Wilds

_All things in this world are finite._   
_What one man gains, another has lost._   
_Those who steal from their brothers and sisters_   
_Do harm to their livelihood and to their peace of mind_   
_Our Maker sees this with a heavy heart.  
_ _\- Transfigurations 1.5_

* * *

The Kocari Wilds were quite beautiful in their own way. It held many legends and was a source of great fear - the top-side Ferelden equivalent to the Deep Roads. The only inhabited part of the wilds was The Fallow Mire to the west, a small village rather than a town. She’d never visited, but she knew of its existence from the countless maps she’d stared at for days on end when she was younger. Apart from that, the expanse of the wilds was largely uncharted and difficult to traverse. Moss hung from exposed tree roots like a bridal veil. Algae filled the pools of water and hundreds of varieties of lichen trailed up the trunks of trees. Most of the tall giants - alder, willow, downy birch, ash, pine and oak - must have been centries of years in age. Perhaps older.

Trees were crushing old Tevinter ruins, tearing old walls and arches apart with thick roots and twisted branches. The foliage grew with ease - dogwood, roses, brambles, flowering rush, sedge grasses, scabious, flag iris, ragged robin, cotton grass, hemp, frogbit and water lilies all seemed to thrive in the marshy conditions. Elfroot littered the area just as the ruins of Ostagar continued on, along with it’s more fatal cousin deathroot.

The wilds were mostly home to chasind folk, perhaps the Avaar tribes would move through here from time to time just as the Dalish moved. Most stories of the wilds consisted of people fleeing from the law or barbarians. The most famous legend connected to the area was the Witch of the Wilds.  
How much of it was true she didn’t know. But it wouldn’t surprise her that apostates escaped here - summoning demons and practising other forms of blood magic, no doubt. Or, perhaps, a well-hidden camp for a Rebel Queen planning to overthrow an Orlesian usurper, only to be murdered by Orlesian supporters. The knowledge itself seemed to fill her very being with hate for the Bann who killed their rightful ruler than regain their country. That was until she stomped on it. Hate didn’t solve problems, but right now she was so full of the emotion she seemed to hate everything she never had before.

Perhaps after this was over and Howe executed for treason she’d be able to enjoy things again, to breathe clearly and feel the wind for what it was, to be able to see what was around her once more and take everything in.  
Right now, she could only hope that dealing with this darkspawn threat would distract her and give her a cause that wasn’t cold-blooded revenge.

Adelaide could only hope.

“So, Adelaide, you enjoy taking down Darkspawn?” Alistair’s question had brought Adelaide to the present. “I didn’t think you would be the type.”

“Neither did I.” She clambered over an exposed root with a grunt of effort, one foot perched on the wood as the other swung over the side. “I feared them the first few times, still do.” Her face twisted a little as she got into a squatting position, one hand on the root, and stared at the ground, figuring out which area was safer to land. “But it’s no good letting that fear tell you to run when people depend on you. I reacted slowly the first three times, most of my unit died. They could sense that fear on me and it made them petrified. You know when your teacher is worried you get that really nauseating feeling that something _really_ bad is happening?”

Alistair’s laugh rang through the air, a light sound that seemed to lift weight without effort. “That overwhelming fear that you did something wrong or, if it wasn’t something you did, it was something someone else had done”

“Yes! That feeling. Take that and give it to twenty people against thirty darkspawn, then put yourself there, seeing your leader shaking in their boots.” She stared blankly at the ground for a moment before dropping to the ground, lightly stumbling on tired legs. “It lowered their morale and they died. But if you were to look at your leader and see them standing proud, not a sign of fear present, oozing an astonishing amount of confidence, how would you feel?”

“More than likely a little terrified, but not _so_ scared that I’d poop my pants and die of embarrassment.”

“Exactly. So I had to fake a lack of fear for them to live. Of course, some of my charges still died, it can’t be helped. But I just…got so tired of returning home to my father with a blotchy face and feeling like I brought shame to the Cousland name, that I thought ‘don’t focus on what you’re fighting, focus on the cause.’” It was with a sigh hidden by the slight jolts of walking downhill that she continued. “Sorry if I terrified you or something. I’m more used to being looked at for a confidence boost. I don’t inherently enjoy killing beings with souls.”

“You didn’t terrify me, although I’m sure Jory would beg to differ.” Adelaide laughed at his honest statement - although the noise was short and quiet - and she looked at him curiously. “It was a surprise to hear. I’m still not used to it - going Darkspawn hunting and all that.”

“I don’t think you can get used to it. Not really, anyway. I mean, Darkspawn are terrifying beings, right? Maybe senior Wardens have an easier time, but I’d guess that they fear them just the same. Only, they hide it much better. Like it’s second nature.”

“You’re… probably right. I’ve not heard the older Wardens talk about it.”

“Must be the biggest taboo subject in the order.” The idea itself was almost amusing - _almost._ Grey Wardens - protectors against Darkspawn, found their very enemy taboo. It made no sense to her. Wouldn’t they want to discuss how to get used to killing the twisted creatures? Or were they too disturbed by them that there truly was no way to get used to it?

It was a depressing thought.

Twigs snapping alerted her to a presence in front of the group - beyond a mass of thick undergrowth and tree. She paused, eyes narrowed as she scanned the area. Daveth seemed to retreat behind her, Jory stood stock-still and tense. A quick glance at Alistair would have shown that he, too, had narrowed his eyes, scanning their surroundings.

“It’s the Witch of the Wilds.”

“Daveth, I doubt there’s a 'witch’ of the wilds.”

Whilst the other two recruits spoke quietly, Adelaide leaned towards Alistair. He was on edge, arguably worse than everyone else. There was something he knew that she didn’t. “Company?”  
It was in the way his hand went to the sword at his hip and the shield at his back that she assumed the answer before he could answer. Swiftly, she drew her own blade and took her shield.

“The unfriendly kind.”

“Darkspawn? Or witches?” There was a moment of silence witch the exception of the wind cutting through the trees. The light reflecting off the surface of marsh water revealed the pale, twisted forms of Darkspawn. She watched patiently, grip tightening on her blade and shield. In these situations, they were the only things that could protect her along with sharp instincts and quick reflexes. One wrong move could be fatal. “I’m assuming darkspawn.”

She spoke a little louder this time, internally nodding at the sound of the other two recruits preparing their own weapons - a claymore for Ser Jory and two daggers for Daveth - and within seconds the first low, animalistic growl of darkspawn sounded. The sound of blighted foes, no longer living and merely mindless husks, curdled her blood. Her heart raced, mouth going dry, as fear struck her. The pang was to be expected and she effortlessly stood in a defensive position

“How did you know?” Alistair’s question was oddly humourous, the tone almost exasperated.

She could only shrug and tilt her head from left to right to loosen a little tension. “Lucky guess.”

It was with ease that she ran into the gaggle of darkspawn - five ar most - with her shield making the first contact. Jagged blades made for her, merely scraping her armour. Only scratches were left behind, easy to polish away. Her sword snuck into the gap of jagged, pieced together armour and sank into the thickened skin. Black spewed from the injury as she freed her sword and deflected a blow with her shield. The others charged in seconds behind her, the blow she made to deflect never happening as the creature fell - a charge forcing it to fall. Adelaide brought her shield down with little effort, allowing the weight to guide it to the exposed middle of the darkspawn. Silverite metal sank with little effort, and a grunt on her part freed it. In one movement she swung her shield and made an impact with the head of another foe, breaking bone with the force.

It was a quick skirmish with no time to think about the enemy they were facing. She’d faced enough darkspawn to know that five darkspawn was more than enough to wipe out an unsuspecting unit quickly and effortlessly. They didn’t feel anything but anger.

That was what the Chant of Light taught her.

A final gargle was heard and the fight was over. It was quiet for a few moments - still as people caught their breath. Adelaide stared at their foe, waiting to see if any still lived. Pale eyes were as lifeless as when they were alive - if they ever were, to begin with.

“Is everyone okay?” The question was addressed to everyone but she paid little attention as she sheathed her blade and put her shield on her back. She narrowed her eyes and looked back to the water’s surface, watching the ripples move as if there hadn’t been a fight in the Wilds since the Tevinter’s were kicked out by the combined forces of the Alamari, Avaar and Chasind folk.

“Adelaide?”

“I’m fine. It just doesn’t seem right - for something that isn’t a _real_ blight according to everyone else in Ostagar, these darkspawn are more tactful than mindless. They worked together.” Adelaide’s frown deepened. “The number of darkspawn skirmishes I’ve dealt with, none have been like this. It’s got to be a Blight, surely. It would explain why they’re smarter and far more cunning. They have a leader - something to follow. They aren’t wondering the deep roads willy-nilly, looking for an Old God to corrupt - they’re looking for revenge upon the Maker for casting them out. ”

“Don’t you think you’re overthinking things, My Lady?”

She scoffed inwardly, silent and only caught by the brief curve of her lips that faded as soon as it arrived. “Perhaps - but it’s better to be well prepared and take it seriously, rather than let victories think you invincible - complacency, Ser Jory, is what kills you.” She looked around again, carefully with a calculated gaze. She looked at the water for a few moments, no sign of any darkspawn. She cast a look at Alistair, questioning him with a look.

“We’re safe for now. But stay alert. Darkspawn aren’t to be taken lightly.”

It should have eased some of the tension, but it only brought more unease. Her brother and his men from Highever were here somewhere. They came across darkspawn close to the entrance to the wilds. Perhaps Fergus was lucky, or perhaps more unlucky than anything else if the darkspawn got to them.

The thought itself made her shudder.

“Alistair, do you want the vials?”

“We’ll get the blood on the way back to camp - too much weight will slow us down.”

“I’m assuming it’s quite the hike.”

She followed the Warden without question and complaint. There was no reason to complain - she was here through dumb luck. If anything, she felt unworthy to complain about anything - even if she had wanted to leave her parents alone as they had wanted her to, so she wouldn’t see them in pain any longer than necessary, the circumstances still weren’t… _favourable._ To say the least.

She barely made it out of Highever alive. She had no right to complain. That was what she kept telling herself. She wanted to be here, after all, to help her country, her King, the people she had sworn to protect.

She was unworthy to do so should she show any reluctance when she had nowhere to go. She would be seen as untrustworthy and a disgrace upon Ferelden - an awful waste of what dignity remained for the second most powerful family in the entire country, only behind the Therein bloodline.

Whining and whinging wasn’t going to change anything.

The scent of death filled her nostrils suddenly, so abruptly her face twisted in disgust and she coughed inwardly, keeping her mouth closed should the inhale through her mouth for another breath should it cause her to taste it in the air.  
A grunt of pain was heard not too far away, close enough for it to be clearly heard. Close enough for the cry of help to resonate within her.

In the near distance, a caravan could be seen - a wagon with a canvas cover, undoubtedly once full of supplies. Two dead cattle lay at the front, guards and soldiers littered as cadavers who once drew breath, but now were only saturated with blood and gore. One form moved, outstretching an arm. She stared for a moment before approaching, unable to stand by when the person could be helped or suffering eased. 

She wasn’t going to let another soul perish when she could have done something.

It wasn’t until she got closer that she realised the severity of the situation, crouching next to the injured man. She examined him quickly, but with all the blood it was hard to tell.  
“Alistair, can we do something?”

“I should have some bandages in my pack.” Alistair sifted through his pack and pulled out a roll of bandages. As he knelt and began to help the man, she noted he frowned, eyes narrowed. Perhaps things were worse than they had originally thought?

“What happened here, Soldier?”

The man, who was now leaning against a tree, looked at her as if he had only just noticed her presence. “We were on our way to Ostagar when we were attacked by Darkspawn. We were caught off guard, slaughtered. What few survived the initial battle soon died of the Blight or were dragged away.”

“Taken?”

“The women mainly. Down an old tunnel. I dread to think what happened to them - many had family.” He grimaced a little. “You should get out of here while you can - before night comes. That’s when they come out - waiting, ready to strike at you. They’re stronger then. More deadly. Bloodthirsty.”

“We’ll leave once we’ve finished our duty.” She frowned for a moment, then slowly asked yet another question. “Have you seen anyone from Highever?”

The was a pause, a thought, then a shake of his head. “Not since we were attacked. I saw a group from the terynir last night, but not since. They may have returned to Ostagar, gotten lost or… attacked by darkspawn.” She flinched at the latter thought - something that must have been obvious to him as he showed an apologetic expression. “Was there anyone you were after?”

“My older brother.”

“If they have been attacked by darkspawn, then I am sorry for your loss.”

The words echoed within Adelaide’s being, never leaving. It was a possibility that hadn’t crossed her mind. If it was true then, perhaps, she truly was the only Cousland left alive. It would change everything.

The atmosphere turned sour in mere seconds and her heart pounded, uncertain whether it should be angry or upset, or remain in denial.

“Can you stand?” Alistair’s question was barely heard from her, yet it quickly changed the topic. The injured man was soon on his legs, walking towards Ostagar. Adelaide stood up after a few moments, eyes narrowed to hold back any form of emotional outburst. She was a leader and she needed to remain neutral so the others would remain calm. That was what she was used to on the field. When they were finished, she could think on it later, let it all out in training, but for now, it needed to be swallowed.

“Think he’ll be alright?” She internally cursed at herself, her voice tense, shaking with the effort of holding back secrets and weakness. She hoped it was only noticeable to her, but with how everyone was silent and Alistair speaking as if to comfort her, it was clear it had been obvious.

“We cleared the way for now, but I cannot say for certain. I hope he will be.”

“Then let us cling to that. At this point, hope is all we have going for us.”

“Hope? You heard what those _things_ did to his unit. We should listen to him - return while we can.”

“We came here for a mission, Jory.” Adelaide shot him a glare, such cowardice at the story wouldn’t have him last five minutes. Her initial impressions of him were only growing worse. She would say she’d be honoured to fight by his side out of civility, politeness, but she would hate to be next to him in the front lines. 

“It’s suicide.”

“You wanted to be a Grey Warden - you were enthusiastic about it when I first spoke to you, wanting to bring honour to your family, defeat the darkspawn and the Archdemon. Grey Wardens are the only ones who can - they are heroes, multiple races, multiple backgrounds. If one tale like this frightens you so much then go back to Ostagar. Make a complaint to Duncan. I’m sure he’d have something to say. Might conscript you instead.”

Once again, the knight seemed to retreat into his armour, leather and chainmail. She questioned what Duncan ever saw in him.

“My family - my _parents_ , my _friends_ \- lie dead in Highever and I have to put up with one _knight_ who’s only shown me that he isn’t worthy of his title.” Her glare hardened as she spat out her words. He paled, eyes widened. “You want to know the burden of honour?Then buckle up, _Ser_ Jory, because you have a lot of courage to find.”

“That’s _enough_!” Alistair’s voice rang out, firm and strict. "Jory, I’m a Grey Warden. We can sense the darkspawn. If we were to get attacked, I’d tell you. It’s why I’m here.“

"You see, Sir Knight,” Daveth grinned, “we might die, but we’ll be warned about it first.”

“That’s… reassuring.”

“Better than cowering - ” Alistair’s stern expression silenced her. “I’ll remain quiet.” She raised her hands in surrender, but he still looked at her expectantly. She crossed her arms. “Sorry for my outburst.”

Then he looked at Jory. “And what have you got to say for yourself?”

“I… I didn’t know -”

“Of course you didn’t. It’s business between myself and the King. Sorry for taking it out on you.”

“Now that’s sorted,” Alistair’s expression softened. “we need to find the treaties.”

__________________________________

It was easier to believe they would find them before they discovered the chest broken into and enchantments gone.

The journey had been quiet with the exception of wolves and darkspawn, a shade reawakened from slumber, and the wind. What birds that used to exist had long gone, Adelaide had surmised. It made the disappointment stronger.

“We need to find the treaties.” Alistair’s voice was almost inaudible.

“Difficult to do when they’re gone, Alistair.” Adelaide couldn’t help but smile at the hint of disbelief in his tone.

“They’re… they’re gone.”

“Very gone.”

“More than gone, My lady.”

“Non-existent, Ser Knight.”

Alistair frowned. “Gone. Someone -”

“Took them. I suppose you would have come to that conclusion eventually, but I must admit it was enjoyable for a time. That was before it grew painful to watch.”

Adelaide, who leaned against one of the remaining pillars of the ruins, turned her head in the direction of the voice. A woman, young and pale with dark hair tied in a bun, stood. Her clothes would be considered unacceptable outside the wilds, black boots and leggings with a skirt of leather, sleeves tight to her skin and just as dark in colour with raven feathers at the shoulders. There was no shirt, only a dark violet scarf around her neck, barely covering the binding that supported her breasts. It was beyond Adelaide how this woman could survive with the mosquitos.

“She’s a witch of the wilds!” Daveth leaned into Adelaide, pointing at the roughened staff upon her back. An object that the Cousland had first noted in her speculative once over of the woman. “She’ll put you in a pot she will!”

“My, what manners. I have not come here to harm you, nor indulge in such tales.” Her way of speaking held mystery, almost archaic. It was obvious that she was a mage, but a witch of the wilds? Such tales were merely written to induce fear of going into the unknown. A female mage in the wilds just made her a mage in the wilds. Stories were simply fabricated tales, embellishing the truth to create another tale, so much farther from the other.

Despite enjoying folk stories, myths and legends: some felt… exaggerated, original messages lost - fables suddenly a useless sleave of literature used for nothing more than to be forgotten, or dust collecting.

“Daveth, please. A mage she may be, but she’d hardly threatening us.”

“With a Witch of the Wilds, a pleasant conversation could lead to death.”

“Honestly, Jory, how many tales of elves stealing your sugar and spices have ever _actually_ been true?”

“Multiple times?”

“Have you actually seen them in person?”

“No?”

“Innocent until proven -”

“You knew the treaties were gone. You stole them didn’t you?” Alistair pointed his anger at the mage, leaving Adelaide’s _guilty_ in the dust, quiet and as a sigh in retaliation to his words. “You sneaky witch thief!”

She facepalmed internally at that point.

“I didn’t steal them. 'Twas my mother in fact.”

Adelaide stood forward, holding her hand in front of Alistair to silence him before he could anger her instead. She had to remember he had a talent for _riling up mages._  
“I’m sorry on behalf of the group.”

“Finally, someone with manners.” The mage smiled then, clearly impressed. “I like you.”

“Careful: first it’s _I like you._ Then _zap._ Frog time.”

Adelaide rolled her eyes at Alistair’s comment, not taking her gaze away from the mage. Despite not being threatened, it didn’t make her any less of a threat.

“You are the only woman in the group. Having to put up with these idiots must be quite the handful.” Under better circumstances, she would have agreed, but she had given them a touch of a rough time, too. “What is your name?”

“Adelaide.”

“'Tis a beautiful name, not seen around here. I am Morrigan. I should imagine you come from Highever? The shield on your back, unless you looted it from a corpse, shares its heraldry.”

“I am indeed. My family seems to have multiple run-ins with mages within these wilds.”

“Yet they are merely tales.”

“That they are. Tales that may simply stretch the truth.”

The mage laughed. “Finally someone understands. I shall take you to my mother, if you so desire, to retrieve your treaties. No harm has befallen them.”

From the corner of her eye, Adelaide saw Alistair about to object, but she spoke before he could get a word in. “Take us there. We’ll leave as soon as we have them.”

“Of course. Follow me, lest you wish to be lost in the Wilds for either the Darkspawn or the Wolves - perhaps what few Chasind remain in these parts - to kill you, hm?”

The boys looked at each other then at Adelaide. She merely bit back a laugh and began to follow the mage.

The treaties were important, not the men shaking at their knees.

“Then lead the way, Morrigan.”


	4. The Beginning of The End

_Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow.  
In their blood The Maker's will is written.  
\- Canticle of Benedictions, 4.11_

* * *

_Once they had returned, the joining took place. Adelaide knew the darkspawn blood was for a reason she didn't want to know - to become a Grey Warden, recruits had to drink Darkspawn blood. In front of her, she saw Daveth drink with no complaints, not caring that death could take him. But it had - eyes clouding, hands at his throat as he choked to death. He was brave - braver than he should have been. He suffered a painful death, lasting seconds before he died, body finally stilling on the floor._

_She swallowed thickly, sweat beading at her forehead. She didn't have time to think of it, staring blankly at Daveth's body as if he had just... fallen. As if she hadn't watched him die. Jory was supposed to go next but... he chickened out, refused, drew his sword on the Warden-Commander, claimed he couldn't risk his life because he had a family._

_So did she. So did her mother. Yet she sacrificed herself so her daughter could escape from Highever with little more than a scratch. That was true honour. If he couldn't risk his life because he had family, then he took his job with far less care than he should have done._

_He had been killed. Being the first to strike, Duncan was acting in self-defence at Jory's offence._

_Then it was her turn. With silence she took the goblet, in silence she drank from it, in silence she swallowed. In silence, she went through pain and found an odd sense of comfort in believing that death could have her see her parents again. Instead, she saw the darkspawn, the archdemon - a corrupted dragon, tinted by the Blight - and then... she was back at Ostagar, Alistair and Duncan waiting..._   
_Her legs went weak and in the same silence she surrounded herself in... she fell to the floor._

A damp cloth, still cool, was on her forehead when she came round again. It was still dark and Duncan and Alistair were at her side, faces illuminated by the orange glow of the nearby fire. It was quiet and she groaned as she began to sit up. Gentle hands - one from each male - aided her.

"Easy, Adelaide," Duncan spoke gently like her father often did when she was unwell.

"You hit the ground pretty hard when you fell - had us worried for a moment there." Food was placed in front of her. "It's not much, but -"

"It's enough. That's all that matters."

She didn't think it strange that Duncan and Alistair were there when she awoke. If it had been the other way around, and she was a Grey Warden and they were not, she would ha e remained, too. She remained when her soldiers were down, helped them when they were injured. She would have been more concerned if she had just been left alone.

It was only when the food touched her tongue that she realised she was alive. She couldn't taste anything, but she could feel the warmth of it fading in the night breeze. She ate quickly. When she had finished, she looked around. The bodies had been moved, most likely buried, but blood remained where Jory had perished. She frowned at that. For what it worth, he was a... good man, most likely better suited to being a guard than anything else, but his mistake was attacking. 

He merely ended up dying, rather than having a chance to live. It merely happened quicker.

"A waste of a man."

"Despite calling him a coward?" Adelaide flinched at the words. "Alistair told me." He was gentle nonetheless.

"I still stand by those words, even if I do regret how they... came out. It didn't make him a bad person - he was undoubtedly good at his job in Redcliffe: his sword technique was good, footwork faultless. But he allowed his fears to get to him. Regardless, it is not my place to say whether he would have been a good Warden or not. He lifted his sword, swung out and you acted in self-defence. I cannot fault that, nor would I even if it was my place. I would have done the same thing in your place." Her eyes finally left the blood-stained stone. "I'm a Grey Warden now, right?" Her answer was a nod from both males. "What do I need to do next?"

"The King is making a battle strategy. He'll want to know you made it. You'll come with me."

"Sounds like a plan." She stood, plate in hand. Duncan had already begun to walk away. It was an urgent matter, of course, and the ceramic had quickly been taken from her hands. "I can -"

"It's important. You shouldn't be late." Alistair smiled, but he seemed just as troubled as she did. "I'm glad you made it through the joining, Adelaide. My joining didn't fare much better."

"I'm glad you made it through yours, Alistair." His eyes seem to widen at her statement, as genuine as it was, and she couldn't help but smile in amusement. "I'm hoping I get to fight by your side again. And I hope that you make it out alive. You're a good guy and they're far too rare a breed to die out." She clasped his shoulder. "If we don't see each other again today, I hope we do another time."

"As do I."

________

_"Your Majesty, my men will need a signal to join you and the Grey Wardens in the front lines as reinforcements."_

_"I saw a tower on my way in that seemed to be tall enough." Adelaide stared at the map of Ostagar as her thoughts stumbled from her mouth without warning. Usually, she would have apologised and fallen silent again, but King Cailan and Teryn Loghain had been at loggerheads for a while._

_"Of course, Adelaide. The Tower of Ishal. Loghain, would it work?"_

_The Teryn thought for a moment then nodded. "Good thinking. We have a beacon on the highest floor. I'll send some of my men to light it."_

_"No." Cailan leaned against the table, head hung. He sighed before looking at Duncan. "Send Alistair and Adelaide." And then he looked at Loghain. "Each raid darkspawn manage to get inside. If it happens again, your men are dead and useless. The signal will never light. Grey Wardens can sense the Darkspawn. We can spare two, can we not?"_

_"Of course, Your Majesty. "_

It seemed long ago that the conversation had taken place. The battle had started mere moments ago, but Darkspawn had already arrived at the tower. Guards laid dead on the ground, mutilated and defiled. Adelaide's skin tingled - itched. Her nerve endings initially felt like they were aflame and her face twisted in discomfort. It was barely noticeable before when all she could hear was swords and ballistae. When she began to hear the Darkspawn, that was when she started to feel _different._ It was bearable, barely there at all. It began to increase so slowly she was already used to it. She _hoped_ she was. 

That wasn't the case once darkspawn set their clouded eyes on her.

She knew the difference at that point - that she'd get used to it momentarily and soon it would only be an annoying tinge. 

The creatures began to charge at her then. She drew her blade late - both from the almost agonising suddenness of tingling senses she had never felt before and from the sheer unexpected chaos. She should have been prepared, knowing that darkspawn had entered the tower a few times, but to see so many? 

She was glad, for the first time, that she had plenty of experience fighting Darkspawn without Wardens. She'd gotten so used to the last-minute drawing of blades that the speed in which she both drew her blade and parried the blow was enough for Alistair to stare at her. 

"Alistair," Adelaide threw a glance in his direction, as she rolled out the way of a maul crashing down the floor, spinning on her heel to sink her blade in a gap in the Alpha's armour. An emissary was behind him, preparing a spell. "Emissary behind you," her strike missed its mark, an invisible force making her movements slow, "distract it somehow!"

"On it!"

Within moments she heard a guttural cry of pain in his direction. When she spared another glance mid-swing, the emissary was on the floor and Alistair was slowly getting surrounded by Hurlocks - darkspawn who were once human. They were weaker, his sword cutting them down with ease. The Alpha seemed momentarily distracted by Alistair and Adelaide took the opportunity to behead the creature of darkness. 

She kicked its body to the floor, leaping over and taking her shield from her back. Finally, the leather grip was in her hand. The comforting thought helped her regain her strength, her nerves and senses finally easing and now just a subtle niggle once again. With a deep breath, she ran into the fray, shield knocking three Hurlocks over in a single swing, sword cutting down two unsuspecting blighters with a follow-up swing of her blade. 

"Nice of you to join me. Did you enjoy your meeting?"

"Would have enjoyed it more if the Alpha wasn't trying to kill me that's for sure." They were back to back now. "And you?"

"Apart from my eyebrows getting singed? I'm surprised they were only after me."

"You made a lot of noise. Distracted them from their evening meal. Beautifully done, I must say. You should teach me how to angle the shield to protect myself from magic."

"If we make it out alive I'll put it on my calendar."

The statement made her laugh - a short burst of air that may have sounded a little more sarcastic to anyone else at that moment. "Good thing we're here to keep each other alive." It was a quiet mumble - if it could be called that with grunts of effort and clashing of steel ringing in their ears.  
  
A moment passed - a moment of stillness before the flames came. She heard the fire before she felt it, she felt it before she saw it. For a moment, she raised her shield in retaliation. She wasn't used to dealing with magic, although she had dealt with two apostates only the month before. If they were harmless and merely lost, taken away against their will or escaping ill-treatment, she would have taken them to the Chantry to wait for the circle templars, or be taken there by a few of the Templars in the Chantry.  
  
But they raised their staves instead, threw fire and lightning at her men. They only had one Templar, a woman who everyone wanted to be on the _right_ side of, rather than the wrong side. The apostates were dealt with swiftly by her whilst the others were tattered from fire and electricity. Her shield had crumbled beneath the onslaught and she was in the infirmary for two weeks whilst healers worked on her burns.

With her shield currently raised, she couldn't see the incoming ball of fire, but she felt the force as it hit the ground. She was thrown to the floor, skidding across fresh blood on the stone, then mud once she had hit the grass. She continued until her back hit a tree not too far away from the area she had left.

Adelaide groaned. Her eyes were clenched shut for a few moments as her head pounded and back ached. She remained still, simply breathing, listening to the sounds of battle. For the first time since the start of the fight, she felt her skin tingle again. Her instincts told her to reach for her sword, so she did. Her hand only came into contact with mud and stone. She panicked and opened her eyes. There, about to land a blow, was a darkspawn. She rolled away, dodging the blade with a mere graze against her cheek. It stung, her back in pure agony, but her hand finally found her blade.   
  
She went to stand, swing at the darkspawn -   
  
"We'll deal with this blighter, Warden." A woman spoke, and she stood between Adelaide and the darkspawn. Beside her was a man, both stood with matched confidence and both held onto blades almost as long as they were tall. "Your fellow is worried about you, you know."  
  
"W-What?" Adelaide blinked in confusion but was pulled to her feet by another. She hissed. The woman shone a glance - eyes near violet with a speck of blue - in their direction and cut the darkspawn down with barely a glance. 

"Carver, careful. Back injuries are awful."  
  
"Sorry, sister. Didn't realise we were out of danger." 

Adelaide looked at the man - _Carver_ \- and followed the direction his thumb was pointed in. Darkpawn were dead all around, a circle mage seemed to be holding his arms our in apology whilst Alistair appeared to be - no, she could _hear_ him yelling.  
  
"I need to get to them!" Adelaide ran as fast as she could, looking back at the two warriors, "Thank you!" then looked back again.  
  
As soon as her feet hit the stone, Alistair looked in her direction. His face was red, sweat plastering his forehead. His eyes were frowning initially, then they widened, then his expression softened as relief washed over him. "Adelaide, I was just -"  
  
"Shouting at the poor blighter?"  
  
"No, I mean, yes. But not -" Adelaide raised her hand and he fell silent.

"Alistair, I'm fine. No need to yell anymore." She looked at the mage. "I'm sorry. We've both had quite the day. I'm sure he meant nothing by it. I appreciate the help."  
  
The mage nodded. "I should have sent out a warning. I'm sorry, Wardens."  
  
Adelaide shook her head. "No need to apologise." She looked to the somewhat shamed male beside her. "Alistair, Aelfric was with you on the way here - is he still okay?"  
  
"Yeah." The warden pointed to a nearby bush. Aelfric's red warpaint could be spotted through the twigs, back leg cocked up. Of course. The pooch was relieving himself.  
  
"Ah." The mabari walked away from the bush, head moving everywhere, whining lightly. "Aelfric!" His ears pointed up and he looked at her. She clapped her legs. "Here, boy!" He bounded towards her and she ran her hands along his face, keeping her head as far away as possible. "No licking. I don't think dogs can become Grey Wardens. I feel bad enough with just bringing you here to attack these godless bastards." She kissed the top of his head then stood and fed him a treat. "Alright, let's go light the signal."

____

It should have been easy: climb to the top, light a beacon, go back to the battlefield.

Of course, with her around, it was _never_ simple. There was always _something_ that went wrong. Darkspawn had _flooded_ the tower. They filled it. The tunnels must have been how they got in - killed _everyone_ inside. 

She hoped the top floor would be free - a moment of calm before the walked out to their deaths on the battlefield if the strength of the Darkspawn in the tower were anything to go by. The group were battered and bruised, joints and muscles aching. The mage had cast a healing spell on her before they entered the Tower of Ishal, helping the recovery of her back. Not that it had done her any good all things considered; magic, afterall, can't cure everything. She was lucky she could still move: swing her sword her, take full force attacks with her shield (even if she did strain to do so) and dodge with relative ease. The more they continued up, the less her joints wanted to do. But they had to act quickly and she had no right to complain.   
  
Reaching the top floor should have been a relief, yet the sight that was in front of her filled her with nothing but dread and fear. A beast, dwarfing its kin, taller than any living thing she had come across - perhaps twenty feet at a guess. Horns, large and deadly, grew from the side of its head and twisting up towards the ceiling. Its eyes, as pale and lifeless as its brethren, found her - stood in the doorway, exhausted and sore. It roared, a sound that she felt traverse through the floor and up her legs. It was the only darkspawn in the room, yet so many people had already perished. Just like the rest of the tower. 

It _sickened_ her. 

Adelaide sighed, shoulders visibly falling. "Maker's breath why can't it just leave?" She lifted her sword arm, which was loose by her side, and rolled her neck in preparation.   
  
"He's a big guy, isn't he?"

Alistair's quip didn't go unnoticed, neither did the low growls of Aelfric and the swallow from the mage (who'd introduced himself as Andrew as a passing comment of nervousness). "I can't wait till he's a dead one."  
  
She watched intently, eyeing it as it ran towards the group.  
  
"Aren't we going to dodge?"  
  
"On the count of three...one," she put her shield on her back, "two," she took hold of Aelfric's collar, "Move!" She shifted Aelfric between her legs and bent forward. She raised her sword arm as it charged. The blade cut, blood landing on her back, and a loud thud sounded from behind her. Dust fell and she spoke quietly into Aelfric's ear. A single 'run' and he was off, she followed, spun around, and saw Alistair and Andrew on opposite sides, breathing heavily in surprise.  
  
Blood dripped from the Ogre's leg, running down the stretch of muscle that made up its thigh. She could see the gash, small and pointless, but it was something, at least. Its horns were caught in the stonework, shoulders blocking the doorway.

"You two!" Alistair and Andrew looked at her, "Don't just stand there you, idiots! Attack the thing when it can't attack you!"

Alistair took the hint quicker than the mage, slashing at the giant's legs. From where she stood, she saw the mage attack from the other side - mainly primal spell, lightning, fire, ice. She watched, giving guidance from where she was, watching the ogre intently. "Alistair! Move! Right arm swinging at you!"  
  
He dodged in the nick of time. 

When the ogre started to loosen in its hold, she ran in, both hands on the handle of her blade. Close in, she could see the number of cuts left behind, the showering of more dust and stone. Andrew could see the destruction more clearly and moved further away.   
"Alistair, we need to move!" The was a grunt of effort from the beast, then another from Alistair as more rubble fell. Before he could get trapped, she took his hand and pulled him away. A final bellow echoed and she pushed Alistair into an alcove within the wall, sandwiching him inside. She heard the barking of Aelfric, a whine and a growl. "Aelfric, no!" She turned her head to the scene, Aelfric staring at her with ears turned into worry, whining and whimpering. "No biting the Ogre! We're okay! Just, get it stuck in something! Don't get hit either!"  
  
She looked around, rubble blocking their escape. They needed time to escape, crawl out one at a time. 

"Alistair -"  
  
"Adelaide -"  
  
The two wardens looked at each other, having spoken at the same time.  
"I'm fine, Alistair. You're not. I'll get out, help you out and then you can get healed whilst I distract the bastard, alright?"  
  
She heaved herself up onto the rubble, squeezing through. She screeched and retreated, the ogre crashing into the wall. She poked her head back up, dust covering her hair. "Good one, Aelfric. I meant away from me, not at me." It was a mumble and she clambered out awkwardly. She reached then, grasping Alistair by the forearm as he gripped hers. "It's a tight squeeze."  
  
"Very funny. Now you've got me breathing in, holding my breath, and freeing myself from the rubble."  
  
"Better than being part of the architecture, don't you think?"

Finally freed from the rubble, she lightly shoved him in Andrew's direction before hitting the ground to dodge a swinging arm. "Heal him!" She felt herself being dragged off the floor and she gripped her sword tightly. The ogre had recovered quickly from its crash into the wall, head bleeding profusely. But now, she surmised, she'd be suffering the same fate. Or worse. 

"Oi! Horn-head! Put her down!"

Despite being told to _get healed,_ he did the exact opposite. Rather than listen to her, he ran back into the fray. Adelaide would have sighed in annoyance if she wasn't grateful. Alistair landed what must have been quite the attack as the Ogre let go. She sank her blade into its collarbone. It sank into its skin and she lowered her body weight. It slid down, blood gushing from the injury. She pushed off, bringing her blade with her when she came to its waist, and she did the same to its leg.

Finally, it hit the ground shortly after she had, causing the floor to quake. She very nearly fell to her knees - legs wobbly from adrenaline and relief. Alistair caught her arm, stabilising her. 

"You okay?"  
  
"Yes. I'm fine. Once we've lit that beacon I'll feel much better." Adelaide clapped his back and looked at Andrew. "If you would?" The mage nodded and his staff glowed for a brief moment before a spurt of fire lit the pile of wood. 

The beacon was lit. 

The Teyrn's men would march into the battle. Adelaide slowly made her way to the window, but she didn't see men armed and running into the fray. 

"We've got company!"

She spun on her heel, Andrew shot dead with five arrows. There was chaos from all around, too many at once. wasn't anything they could do, they couldn't see the archers that she _knew_ existed. All of them darkspawn. Adelaide stood in front of Aelfric. He'd been part of her life since he was a puppy - it had been nearing five years. He was everything and there was no way on the Maker's earth that she would let him _die_ before her. 

The first arrow struck her shoulder, then another just below her collarbone, another in her middle. It was one after another, so quick she couldn't react to any, one pain merging into another, that merged into a larger one. She hit the floor in agony, the sound of her name faint.

Through blurred vision, she saw Aelfric leap in front of her, protecting her as a Mabari should, as he always had. His nose nuzzled her cheek, whimpering. The sound only made her pain more unbearable.  
"I'll be okay, boy." She slowly ran a shaking hand along his nose. "It's just a minor flesh wound. Don't you even think about biting Darkspawn. I'm not dead yet."  
  


Aelfric laid there, not caring about the darkspawn. He nuzzled her until Alistair came over, his hands on the wound of the arrow that snapped as she fell.   
"Stay with me, Adelaide."

His voice was quiet and the last thing she saw was Aelfric, now stood, running off into the darkspawn. All she could do was stretch out her arm and lose consciousness as Aelfric's name died in her throat.


	5. Losses Felt, Not Seen

_Surrounded by glory, the Seven stood,  
In the hall of apotheosis, heedless  
Of what festered in the shadows they cast there,  
Of what stained and corroded footprints they left.  
_\- _Canticle of Silence, 3.1_

* * *

It was with a start that she awoke - a whimper, a cold, wet touch to her cheek. Her vision was blurred to start with, head pounding and body aching. She groaned, throat as dry as the Approach desert, as she sat up. A moment later, the bed lifted and paws were placed on her shoulders. Aelfric's image sharpened - a look of pure joy upon his face. In an instant he was excitedly licking her face, prompting laughter to burst from her throat, no matter how sore it was.  
  
His tail wagged and he bounced around, full of so much energy she could see he clearly had none for a while.  
  
"Aelfric, it's okay. I'm alive. I'm here. And I have the Orlesian desert living in my throat." The mabari tilted his head in confusion for a moment before pouncing on her again, then down, running in a circle, back up.   
  
It reminded her of her own emotions - never stabilising on one feeing, always being a multitude all at once. She never knew what to _truly_ feel. She was confused as to where she was, but her heart beat so fast with relief that Aelfric was alive that she was sure there must be an army within her chest.

Adelaide saw Aelfric rush into Darkspawn, teeth gnawing away at flesh. There was no doubt that he would have ingested blood. He should be grievously ill, incurable. Dead.   
  
But there he was, barking and yapping, licking her face all over again.  
  
Unless, she _was_ dead, and Aelfric was there as her guardian. No. It was impossible. Everything looked, felt and _smelt_ too real. Spirits and souls of the dead went to the fade, to be with their Maker once more. The dead shouldn't _feel_ thirst or hunger. They were... dead.   
  
"I'm relieved to see that you're okay, Aelfric." At last he settled, practically laying on her lap with his head cradled tenderly in her hands. She ruffled the fur at his neck, muscle moving at the gentleness. He looked at her with such adoration and joy she could have cried.  
  
The door opened then closed quietly and an all too familiar mage, Morrigan, walked into the hut. Within her arms was a basket full of herbs, most likely separated into piles.  
  
"Your Mabari is quite lucky to be alive, Warden. He seems to be as resilient to the taint as dwarves are to lyrium." Adelaide looked to the raven-haired woman, golden eyes flittering about jars before landing on a pile of string. "It's unheard of."  
  
"Perhaps Aelfric is the first Grey Warden dog to grace the lands." At that, Aelfric barked happily before resting his head upon her chest."  
  
"Or he's as stubborn to die as his owner. It is quite the feat that you are still alive - you would all be dead on the top floor of the Tower."  
  
How close she was to death _should_ have mattered to her. But it didn't. She remembered seeing the reinforcements marching _away_ from the King. She remembered seeing the horde.   
  
"And the army?"  
  
A pause a second too long. "Dead. I am afraid your plan wasn't followed through. If anyone made it out alive on that field, I'd be surprised. I'm afraid 'twas a massacre - the Darkspawn killed everyone in their path."  
  
"And Alistair? He -"  
  
"Is waiting patiently outside. I'm surprised he knew how to be quiet with how talkative he is. These past three days he's been... silent."  
  
"Can I speak to him?" As if sensing her urgency, Aelfric straightened and jumped onto the floor. She noticed the door wasn't shut completely as he managed to open it with his snout.  
  
"Of course. Breakfast will be ready soon and," she held out a tankard, "here. Water. Your friend was quite adamant." 

Adelaide bowed her head in gratitude as she stood and took the tankard. "Thank you, Morrigan." Her feet slipped into her armoured boots easily, left beside the bed should she wake up she assumed. She felt the breeze through her tunic, thin and worn, and her brais.   
  
As she left the hut on wobbly legs, she took a sip of water, closing her eyes momentarily to let the blood rush fade. It seemed the sip and turned more into chugging half the water down her throat, water dripping down her chin. She wiped it away like it was nothing, more common than near-death experiences, and opened her eyes again.  
  
Birds chirped and the wind grazed her face with a nurturing caress. She truly was alive. Adelaide looked around for a while, alert and focusing - there, within the shade of an overhanging tree, was Alistair, eyeing Aelfric with confusion as the dog ran around his legs. She watched, stifling a laugh.  
  
He seemed to have heard her. She was approaching him when he looked at her, eyes widening and jaw-dropping. His mouth moved but there was no sound, even when he met her halfway. Like he didn't know whether to laugh or cry. He looked like a lost puppy who had finally discovered someone he knew.  
  
"You... you're..." His laugh was a quiet breath, more seen in the way his chest heaved once than heard. "You're alive." She couldn't help but smile at him tenderly. "I... I can't believe it. I saw you... I was certain... you beat death."  
  
"Twice in one day. Either I'm just damn lucky or the Maker _really_ doesn't like me. Still," she looked at Aelfric who sat by her feet, "someone may as well be a Grey Warden, too." She ruffled his ears, crouching to give the mabari an embrace.

Alistair laughed briefly, more of a gust of wind than a sound. He knelt beside her. "He should have been proud of himself but he was too busy laying on you. You... I'm glad you're alive. "  
  
"As am I." She smiled at him, although it was weak. "I'd sooner be here with you to stop the Blight than be dead. Two Grey Wardens are better than one."  
  
"Yeah. Hang one... two? We..."  
  
Adelaide sighed and looked blankly at the pool, barely registering the grass, the blood lotus. She barely registered the wind. "We're the only two that survived. Everyone else? Duncan? The King? Dead. Loghain called a retreat. Apart from a few lucky ones - if there were any - we're the only ones. "  
  
"We're the only survivors?" Alistair let out a breath of disbelief, his face flinching and twisting with anger, pain, grief. "What about your brother? Do we know what happened to him?"

Adelaide sighed. She didn't really think about it, neither did she want to. "I don't know. Maybe he was lucky and ended up leaving the wilds after getting lost, or he was unlucky. I... It doesn't matter as of right now. At this moment in time, we're the only Grey Wardens alive and that means we have to end the Blight _before_ it leaves Ferelden. "  
  
"Indeed, you have quite the journey ahead of you." An elderly woman approached, voice gravelled but not unkind. It was Flemeth - another 'Witch of the Wilds', origins unknown, age unknown, but she was Morigan's mother and she had kept the treaties safe. For that she was grateful. "The Blight truly has begun."  
  
"But how are we meant to end it when there's been no sighting of an Archdemon? There's only the two of us, right?"  
  
"Three, if you include the treaties, Alistair."  
  
"Haha, right. Funny. Kill darkspawn with a papercut?"

Adelaide felt like facepalming.

"Dear boy, they may not be able to fight, but they can call upon an army."

"Of course!" When Adelaide looked at Alistair at his exclamation, his face was alight with understanding. "The treaties allow all races and nations to work together to stop a Blight. Arl Eamon's forces were meant to be there at Ostagar, we can go to Redcliffe to seek his aid. There are the dwarves of Orzammar and -"  
  
"There's the Dalish in the Brecilian forest, but they not going to be enough. The tribes are small. Tiny. And some of them would _never_ work with humans, even to save the world. We need to tread carefully around them in case we say or do something disrespectful. If we could spread our influence across Ferelden, we may get more aid."

"I wish it would be that easy. I'm afraid Loghain has already named the Grey Wardens traitors and blame you for the death of the King. Influencing the people isn't going to be easy." Morrigan had returned from the hut. "Word spreads surprisingly quickly. I would advise caution."

Her throat seemed to burn, bile threatening to rise. Her hands clenched into fists, brows narrowing into a soul. She would have laughed at the notion had her eyes not been twitching, nostrils flaring in disgust, and throat closing in on itself. Alistair began to speak and she raised a hand in front of him. _Quiet._

"We'll show them who the real traitor is - evidence, proof. N doubt there's going to be plenty of that in Highever."  
  
"Highever? What has -"  
  
"We need to move out immediately. Loghain's already ahead of. If he's willing to let the Blight consume all of Ferelden, then he is far more foolish than the tales would lead us to believe. We help nobles, we help the common people, we help _everyone we can_ and we'll be able to turn the tide. Loghain may think his words have changed the tide of battle, but words are nothing without action. We act, we make more noise. We make more noise, we make more influence. The more influence, the more power. The more power we have? The better we can defeat the Darkspawn and the quicker we end this goddamn Blight."

"It sounds like you already have a plan, Warden."

Morrigan released a sigh. "Mother, your stew will be -"  
  
"You'll be joining them."  
  
"Such a shame." In a split second, her sarcasm became a realisation. "What!?"  
  
Flemeth seemed to click her tongue. "You heard me, dear girl. You'll be helping these two Wardens stop the Blight. They require all the help they can get."  
  
"But - "  
  
"Who taught you how to cook? I can look after myself, My Child."  
  
"I-" Morrigan seemed to sigh once more. "Yes, Mother. I'll pack my things."  
  
Morrigan walked away and Adelaide internally sighed. She was grateful or the extra help of course, but against someone's will? That was what started this to begin with, wasn't it? She hated it. She _liked_ giving options not forcing one upon another.

"Manners. Always in the last place you look. Like stockings."  
  


Adelaide seemed to ignore the statement. "Flemeth, I would... like to thank you. For saving our lives."  
  
"There is no need to thank me, Adelaide Cousland. There is a war to be won. One that affects us all. The two of you are the only ones that can save us, and I have great faith in your abilities. Although Loghain claims you a traitor, your family are still well-respected across Ferelden. You can bring the people of Ferelden together."

Adelaide rose a brow at how Flemeth knew of her family, but it wasn't a surprise. Being nobility meant everyone knew who you were without ever knowing your face. It wasn't anything new to be identified by a stranger.  
"Thank you. But I fear you have too much faith."

"Or you value yourself with too little worth." Flemeth looked at her resolutely, as if she knew something Adelaide didn't or she had blind faith in someone who had yet to grieve. "How many wars have been won with little faith?"  
  
"More than wars won through greed. Too much faith and greed _created_ Darkspawn, rebellions, avoidable wars. Greed from Orlais destroyed what little the Elves had even further and cast them aside as _traitors_. "  
  
"And what books told you that, hm?"  
  
"It's all down to how you interpret it." She sighed. "Wars are won with good leaders, and I'm not one of them."  
  
Flemeth laughed, a sound that would have been condescending had Adelaide took heed. "From what you're friend has told me about you, you would make a fine leader given the chance. You have dealt with nobles in the past, yes?"  
  
"Not especially no. My mother wanted me to but my father would fit my training and studies during those times. I didn't have much time to those we had to deal with - too much nose in the air and not seeing what was at their feet."  
  
"Then _show_ them, Adelaide. You _are_ a Cousland, are you not?"  
  
"Yes, but -"  
  
"Then believe in yourself and those around you. You _must_ if you are to succeed." There was a moment of silence. "There is a village not too far from here, north of Ostagar. You might be able to gather more information there."

_________________________________________

Bogs and marshes were hardly Adelaide's idea of fun. Neither were mires. Not that there was any difference between one or the other. It was always humid, sweat beading at her brow, armour shifting uncomfortably. It was useless to her now - too many scratches that could get caught and tear it apart. Where arrows had punctured her armour, now there were openings for blades.  
  
Where there were bandages her skin was irritated - itching was part of the healing process and she knew that well enough, but wrappings and poultices did little to protect her from blunt-edged metal and leather rubbing against her injury. It was only another layer for sweat to build.  
  
Adelaide swung her arm out, smacking a mosquito away as she swept aside a string of vines. She frowned, focusing on the path ahead yet uninterested in conversing. She ached and all she wanted was to get _out_ of the Wilds.  
  
Aelfric whined beside her and she scratched the top of his head. "I know, boy. We'll be out soon."

She was exhausted. Realistically, she would have needed another week before setting out on the journey. But that week was the difference between failure and success. The difference between ending a Blight or ending Ferelden civilisation. It was the difference between Grey Warden distrust and Grey Warden trust.

A week was a year when it came to warfare.

She had no time to rest, nor did she want to. Somewhere, Loghain sat with mirth on his face, protecting Arl Howe. She had no doubt about it. Murder the second most powerful family, always loyal to the King and able to make the most noise, leave the King to die. It was a hunger for power. Why else would a _tactician_ throw Ferelden to the Darkspawn? Would he _sooner_ have Ferelden wiped out by a Blight than saved? Was it the rumour of Orlesian Wardens helping? 

Orlais. Orlais. Orlais. Loghain _hated_ them. Just as much as she _hated_ Howe. 

A bitter taste was left in her mouth at the sheer _thought_. The mere recollection of the events of Highever made her feel nauseous - sick to the stomach. Who could she _trust_ now? The Howe's had been friends with the Cousland's for Ages and they betrayed them. Would other noble families do the same? Who could she even tell the truth to?

She trusted Alistair - not that they'd known each other very long. But that was with her life, not personal life. Morrigan was an apostate and, although joined them on their journey, could still turn her back on them at any given notice. She hadn't attacked them yet - that was good enough for now.

It had to be.  
  


"I'm quite surprised you have yet to ask me how you were saved."

Adelaide ducked beneath a low hanging branch. "I must admit - my survival wasn't on my mind at the time. But now that you mention it, how _did_ you save us from the top of a tower overrun by darkspawn?"

" 'Twould be quite the mystery to many. My mother is a shapeshifter, Warden. She turned into a dragon, grasped you three - who were all unconscious - and brought you back to the hut. You were safer there for the time being."

Shapeshifting was a forbidden art - like blood magic. Or, at the very least, it was frowned upon. Greatly. Possibly more so than stuck-up nobles hating Orlesians. Granted, she couldn't stand many of them: _the game_ was far too petty for her liking and simply saying no to the leader of the Empire could get you killed. It was consistent walking on eggshells and pure discrimination to anyone that _wasn't_ an Orlesian human.

Their attitude made her blood boil, but the Empress wasn't after war. Why turn down any form of aid against an army no one has seen in four Ages? It made very little sense. 

The same could be said for magic. She didn't care that darker magic was used. It saved her, Alistair and Aelfric. Who was she to judge? No demons were summoned.

"When this is over, I'll have to thank her."

"I am certain stopping the Blight would be enough."  
  
Adelaide let silence fall once again as they followed Morrigan through the landscape. Alistair was quiet, something she had quickly discovered to be uncharacteristic of him in what little time they had known each other.

She understood why. It didn't take much to be able to tell he was suffering - his eyes showed his sorrow, his posture told her he was grieving. She felt it She wanted to tell him it would get easier, but she hadn't been given time to even consider grieving. How could she say that when it would only be numbed for a moment?

"Alistair," She smiled when he looked at her. It wasn't meant to comfort or be bright, but to be something. Kindness. "if you want to talk about the Wardens and your losses, I'll be your ear, okay?"

Alistair's silent was momentary - a few seconds to let her words sick in - before he nodded. "Alright. But you may live to regret that offer."  
  
"I've always been there for people going through a lot in life. You are no different."  
  
He tilted his head. "Doesn't it... ever wear you down?"  
  
"Not really." A brief pause. "Being a friend is about paying attention to those you hold dear. Even if you have no answers to their questions, listening to them ask and offering what you can, is the best we can do. And sometimes, it is all we can do. But I hope it is enough to make people feel a little better."

He seemed to smile at that, something that didn't hide his pain but almost made it bearable. "That's very kind of you. I... I'm here, too. Should you need to... or want to... talk about anything."

She nodded. "Thank you, Alistair. I'll hold you to it."

Although it wasn't much of a conversation, it was enough. Adelaide valued respecting people's privacy. Forcing someone to talk when they do not want to was a sure way of making enemies. She didn't want to do that. Especially when the Grey Wardens were now less than before. By a margin.

They were a team. They had to deal with each other. Be there for each other. Support each other. I would make little sense to ignore that. To act as if they weren't working together.

"Lothering." Morrigan led them out of the Wilds and to farmland. In the distance, there were houses with thatched rooves, a bridge over the river. She had passed through the Village to get to Ostagar. It was small and, unfortunately, in direct sight of the Blight. It would fall and be useless. The land would be tainted and nothing would grow again. 

"At least the Darkspawn hasn't hit it yet." Alistair's tone was a mix of relief and sadness at the Villages impending doom.

"I doubt the villagers would believe us, but we can still give them what they need to have a better chance of escaping further north. Hopefully, they'll be safer there for a while."

It was the best they could do. It was all they _could_ do. They just had to hope it was _enough_.


End file.
